What Happens After
by CoralReef89
Summary: College AU. Astrid is a ballerina, and, like her dancing, her life is full of regimen and perfection. Hiccup is sharp-witted and smart, but he can't seem to do anything right, or do right by anyone. When a secret entwines their lives together, everything begins to change for them.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

**What Happens After:**

That gentle heat, those quiet nudges, the draw of her heart towards him. It was all flaring bright now. Like the pull and pulse of her lips against his. Astrid's senses were submerged in his woodsy smell and quiet hums and gentle fingers just barely touching the curve of her jaw. He was so solid—his weight heavy against hers, and his touch, oh, his touch, _finally_. No more of the unbearable space between them. Just mouth against mouth, chest against chest, breaths intermingled, pulses racing.

She was finding Hiccup, in this kiss, but she was also discovering herself. She could see it—everything she didn't want to be, slipping away, and everything she did want right there and waiting.

And she swore, a second and a year could have been passing all at once. Or maybe time had just slid to a halt for this one, endless moment.

It didn't matter. All she wanted was now.

* * *

><p><em>This will be updated quite frequently, in short bursts. I hope you'll enjoy it. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

_I've never written anything like this before, and I'm just dying to know what you think._

* * *

><p><strong>Part I: The Party<strong>

**After****: ****Astrid.**

It wasn't as if Finn had been such a likable guy when he was alive. In fact, he'd been kind of a jerk. Stubborn, pompous, impulsive. But after the incident—bam! Instant sainthood. And with a bit of heroism thrown in too, because of the gruesome way it happened.

It had only been a day and already there were at least a thousand different stories floating around Berk's campus. The gist was this: Finn went to a party, he got wasted, made out with some blond chick, booked early with her, and then… walked off into the woods alone? Got attacked and dragged into the forest against his will? That was where the rumors got blurry. But, there definitely was no uncertainty as to what caused his untimely demise.

Everyone at Berk was terrified of the wolves now.

Because Astrid didn't watch the news, and she wasn't much of a socializer, it took a while before she finally found out what had happened. She was in the gym, still feeling so, _so_ crappy from all the alcohol she'd drunk last night, but not willing to miss a workout. She'd been fiddling with her iPod, so close to turning on her music and blocking out the world that she'd nearly missed it.

"I heard they could hear Finn screaming all the way from Main Street. That's how they found him."

Astrid's hand paused over the play button.

"Yeah, I heard that too. Man, what a way to go."

Astrid slipped the buds out of her ears. "What are you talking about? Who was screaming?"

The girls turned their heads, eyebrows raised in surprised. "You didn't hear, Astrid?" the brunette said. "Finn Fearman. He died last night."

"Finn?" Astrid felt her muscles tensing, her fingers getting cold. "Wha—how?"

"The wolves," the other girl supplied. "The whole pack got him. Right at the edge of the woods near Harbor Lane."

Astrid stared. She could feel her muscles tensing up, the blood draining from her cheeks. All she could move was her mouth to whisper, "Oh my god."

"I know. It's so sad. They're having an assembly today—like, a memorial. Are you gonna go?"

"Yeah," Astrid said, flexing her fingertips to bring the feeling back into them. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

><p>She shouldn't have been so upset. She hadn't known Finn at all—not really. Hadn't cared about him. Hadn't even liked him, after what he'd tried to pull with her last night.<p>

And she might have been able to shrug it off and forget about it if everyone would have just shut up.

An actual police officer even came to her algebra class, clad in blue-uniform and handgun strapped to his waist. He stood in the front of the room and talked about the incident, to dispel any rumors and make sure everyone felt safe.

"Grey wolves are common to this state," Officer Jorgenson said. "Sometimes they're found a few miles away from the mountains, but they usually keep to themselves. It's in their nature to fear people. They won't attack unprovoked."

Someone in the back of the room raised their hand. "But then why were they so close to town?"

The office grimaced behind his thick mustache. "What happened was a horrible tragedy, but also an extremely rare one. No one has anything to worry about. We have rangers patrolling the woods as we speak to make sure the pack's moved on."

Another hand. "What if they come back?"

"They've got no reason to," the officer replied, clearly itching to leave. "Any last questions?"

"I heard Astrid was sucking face with him at the Beta Kappa party before he died!"

Astrid's blood froze in her veins. Twenty-five heads turned to look at her.

The officer cleared his throat. "We understand that these tragedies take their toll on the entire community," he said. "If anyone has any other concerns, or further information," he eyes flicked to Astrid, "you can contact the local police department."

* * *

><p>She didn't go to the memorial, although everyone else in the state of Oregon certainly did.<p>

She went to the studio and slipped her pointe shoes over her toe pads. She took her time with the laces; it was nice to not have anyone looking over her shoulder and rushing her along.

Every time her muscles began to tense, she forced them to ease_. Today isn't about practicing_, she thought. _It's not about skill. Just music today._

It'd been a long time since it had just been music.

She settled into first position as the stereo crackled, skipping to the next track on the disc. It was just a CD she'd found left in the room, some stereotypical classical music. Tchaikovsky. But when she started to move, her body responded like it was new. Like she'd never heard it before. Like the brilliant bursts of strings and woodwinds were written just for her.

Her feet carried her and she became lost. She wasn't in the studio. She wasn't at Berk. She was in some place that didn't exist. Somewhere where there were only beats and rhythms and harmonies and motions. Her toes pointed and kicked, and for once she didn't force them straight. She let them curve, sultry and soft and comfortable. She twirled and bent into a move so sloppy her professor would have probably fainted at it. But it felt right. It felt passionate, and loud, and alive. So so so alive…

And then the track ended, and she was curled up on the floor, limbs throbbing, head pounding, eyes blurry with water.

And the door was open.

There he stood. That boy. Of course, that boy. Too long hair sopping wet and plastered to his forehead from the downpour outside. So scrawny and thin under his baggy sweatshirt that she could laugh aloud at the thought of him taking anyone in a fight. But there it was—his left hand, knuckles raw and bruised purple. What an idiot. He hadn't even tucked in his thumb.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't know you were—I mean, I..."

It didn't matter anyway. She was finished. She stood up and went for her bag, trying not to look at her reflection in the wall-length mirror.

"I just wanted to…" He went on, stumbling, awkward. "I wanted to ask if you were… I mean, everyone's gone. They're at the memorial."

"I know," she said. "It's crazy, right?"

"Crazy?" he echoed.

"That people can die like that. Just all of a sudden."

Her pointe shoes were still on, but she didn't care. She brushed past him, into the hall.

"Wait!" he called after her. "I was just walking by. It's a shortcut. Forge Hall is right behind here. It's studio hours."

"I know."

"And I saw you dancing. It was amazing. That's all I was going to say."

Astrid stopped. She turned around and looked at the boy who was braver than he should be.

She stared at him straight in the eye—blue to green. And she grimaced. "Please don't tell anyone. Just… don't say anything." She swallowed hard. "I'm fine, really. I just don't want anyone to know."

And then she took off in a run, wearing her pointe shoes all the way back to the dormitories. She took them off and dangled them over a lamp to dry, but she knew she'd ruined them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part I: The Party**

**Before: Hiccup****.**

Hiccup wasn't drunk. He wasn't drunk because he wasn't drinking.

He'd been sitting atop the counter in the kitchen, nursing a party-sized bag of Lays, when Scott Jorgenson scampered into the room. Scott _had _been drinking, that was plain enough to see. And some other recreational activities too, by the look of his bloodshot eyes.

"Haddock!" His voice was raw—maybe from the smoke, or from all the screaming it took to be heard over the pulsing house music. "Yo! Haddock!"

"Present," Hiccup mumbled through a chip.

"You're on keg duty! We need more beer."

"Not twenty-one," Hiccup reminded him, for the hundredth time. "Not legal. I can't be your go-for."

"You look like a nerd, no one's gonna card you!" A fifty-dollar bill was promptly thrown into his lap.

Hiccup wasn't in the habit of doing things that might land him in jail, but honestly, a cell didn't sound so bad compared to the agony of repeatedly exhibiting the most elegant of college mating rituals: doing body shots off the female's chest.

"Fine. Whatever." He grabbed the fifty and handed over the chips to Scott.

"Nothing malted! I hate that Blue Moon shit!"

Hiccup slipped through the mob of writhing bodies in the living room—not so hard when you take up about as much space as a toothpick. That was, until—_wham!_

It wasn't that Hiccup wasn't small enough, it was that Finn Fearman was too big. He was a football player, famous all around Berk for being a perfect male specimen of muscle and facial hair. And famous to Hiccup only as being the supreme jerk that gave him his awful nickname. He took up all the space in the entryway, his beefy body and long arms all stretched out around the blond girl he was kissing. Right against the front door.

"Fuck off," Finn Fearman said, lips still attached to the blond. She was a lot smaller than him, or maybe she just looked short because she was kind of drooped over. In fact, Hiccup was beginning to wonder if she was even awake.

Then, thank goodness, one of her eyes opened to check out the disturbance Finn had been talking to. One unfocused blue iris settled on Hiccup.

"Hey… Finn," she said, leaning her head back to make a millimeter of space between their lips. "Hold on a minute."

She was so clearly drunk that Hiccup almost felt bad for her. He'd only had more than a few sips of alcohol one time before—a couple of glasses of wine at a wedding—but he'd woken up with a killer headache. He didn't even _want_ to imagine what this girl was going to feel like tomorrow.

She put a hand on Finn's chest to push him away. Finn wasn't amused. He leaned back in and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, pinning her to the door.

"Hey!" This time her voice had a bit more fight in it. That is, as much fight as possible when you look like you need to puke. "Finn. Wait a minute. We're blocking the door."

_At least_, Hiccup thought, _someone's on my side_.

Finn relented this time, and slid off of her. Her bunched up shirt fell back into place over her stomach.

"Let's get out of here," Finn said, and he grabbed the girl's wrist. She didn't protest, but, then, Hiccup didn't really think she was capable of it, with the way her mouth was twisting to hold back a wretch.

Finn opened the door and they disappeared outside into the chilly evening sir. The door was left open, and a cold breeze washed over Hiccup, alleviating his overheated skin.

He walked outside, and it was drizzling. Just a faint, misty sort of rain that felt good on his face. It was only a block to Main Street, and he could probably find a convenience store still open there. But the prospect of getting carded wasn't something he was all too thrilled about. And, then, Scott probably wouldn't remember anything tomorrow morning anyway. Maybe he could just make off with the fifty dollars and buy a new video game.

"Finn!"

Hiccup noticed the shadow of Finn Fearman against the tree on the front lawn. He couldn't see the girl, but he guessed she was in that mess of limbs somewhere. Hiccup rolled his eyes. Honestly, it was bad enough knowing that guys like him were capable of reproducing. He didn't need to see him in the act of it too.

"Finn!" the girl's voice shouted again, and this time she didn't sound so pleased.

Hiccup paused.

He saw a girl's slim hand appear over Finn's shoulder and bunch up into a fist.

Hiccup wasn't a do-gooder type, let alone a hero. Not by his own choice, exactly, but because he was scrawnier than anyone else he'd ever met. But Hiccup _was_ a decent person. So he did what any decent person would do.

"Hey!" he called out, and his voice broke in a way that was completely nonthreatening, but he pressed on. "Finn, come on."

Finn didn't react until Hiccup was right next to him. Then he lifted his face from the girl's and glared straight at Hiccup. "Back off."

Hiccup shifted on his feet, trying to swallow down his nerves. "Come on, she's drunk. And," he added, "so are you, come to think of it."

"It's fine. I've got this," the girl said, her face peaking out from behind Finn's shoulder. But something in her eyes made Hiccup think that wasn't true.

"Just let her go. Go back inside."

Finn barked a laugh. "What? You want her for yourself or something?"

"No, I—"

"_You_? You stupid, sick little _hiccup_?"

That nickname. Hiccup didn't even realize what he'd done until a wave of pain shot straight from his fingers up into his shoulder. He disconnected his fist from Finn's jaw, and an embarrassing whimper of pain escaped him.

Finn laughed again, not even dented by Hiccup's pathetic throw. Hiccup didn't even bother to take a step back. He knew he wasn't getting out of this one. His scrunched up his eyes in preparation for the retaliating swing.

And then something heavy thumped on the ground.

He opened his eyes. Finn wasn't coming at him anymore. He was all curled up on the grass, cupping himself, his whole face gone pale.

"I said I _had_ it," the girl said, brushing her hands against her arms. And even though she still looked like she could have upchucked right there, she also definitely looked like she had the situation under control. Without Finn on top of her, Hiccup could see her strong shoulders and slim, toned body. She was clearly the sort of girl who could look after herself.

"Right," Hiccup said, feeling humiliated. "Do you… need helping getting inside or someth—"

"Just go home," she replied, before he could finish. "I'm fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part I: The Party**

**Before****: Hiccup.**

Hiccup's phone was vibrating. It shifted a slow path from one end of his desk to the other, bouncing around and screaming PICK ME UP PICK ME UP PICK ME UP.

_Fat chance_, Hiccup thought, sticking his tongue out at it like the truly mature nineteen-year-old he was.

It eventually silenced, only to start up again a few moments later. This time the vibrations skirted the phone right off his desk and onto the floor.

"Crap!" Hiccup hissed, lunging at it. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, checking for any damage. It had survived unscathed. He sighed, and hit the "call accept" button.

"Hey… Dad," he said shifting the phone to speaker as he settled back onto his bed. He dropped the phone onto his stomach and threw an arm over his eyes.

"You didn't come," his father's voice replied, surprisingly stoic. "I thought we had a deal."

"Yeah, I know. But this thing came up at the shop and—"

"Enough—"

"I mean it! Ask Gobber. He begged me to come and help."

"And why should I believe you? Every week you have another excuse. Every week I have to clean up your mess."

Hiccup clenched his fingers into the inside of his palms. "If she cares so much, why are _you_ calling?"

There was a long pause. He heard his father exhale on the other end of the line. "Enough of this. See your mother."

The line clicked dead.

Hiccup threw his phone across the room. This time it did crack.

* * *

><p>Gobber was sitting behind the register in the shop when Hiccup opened the door, setting off the jingling bells.<p>

"I told you I was done covering your boney bum," Gobber said by way of greeting. "And then what do I get? You're father, calling me to ask why I _continue_ to give you work on Saturdays when I know very well you're busy."

"Sorry!" Hiccup replied half-heartedly as he passed behind the counter to grab an apron. "Won't happen again."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Gobber mused. "It _better_ not happen again!" He waved his prosthetic hand in front of Hiccup's face in what Hiccup assumed was supposed to be finger-pointed, scolding sort of way. "I won't cover for you anymore. I mean it this time!"

_Now where have I heard that before?_ Hiccup thought.

"Hey, do you have any Loctite?" Hiccup took his phone out of his pocket and displayed the crack in the side to Gobber. "I'm thinking it can still be saved."

Gobber reached into the draw under the register and procured the glue bottle. He threw it straight for Hiccup's head, but Hiccup managed to swat it away and catch it against his chest. "Thanks."

Gobber rolled his eyes. "When you're done with your _personal_ project, how about getting to work on the Mercedes out back? You know—like I'm _paying_ you for?"

"Don't be pissed, Gobber!" Hiccup arranged his face into what he thought was a debonair grin. "I know you can't resist all….this!" He flexed his triceps like a body builder, adding some grunts for effect.

"I've seen toothpicks more impressive."

Hiccup huffed, grinning despite himself. "Come on. I'm you're _right hand_ man!"

"Get to work before I fire you like I should have done months ago," Gobber warned, but there was a hint of a smile too under his thick mustache.

Hiccup stuffed the phone and the Loctite into his pocket. "Alright, I'll check on the Mercedes. And I'll even do the Jeep too, since I'm so generous."

"Good," Gobber called after him. "But, first…"

Another bottle of Loctite came sailing towards him from across the room. Hiccup tried to duck, but he was too slow, and it capped him right on the nose before falling onto the floor and bursting open, spraying glue all over his jeans.

Gobber howled with laughter. "That's coming out of your paycheck. Now get to work!"

* * *

><p><span><strong>After<strong>**: **

His phone was vibrating. The vibrations sounded different—weird—after the patched-up glue job he'd done to the crack on the side of it.

The phone danced: PICK ME UP PICK ME UP PICK ME UP.

Hiccup grabbed his pillow and pushed his face into it. He screamed until all the fight that could fit into his scrawny body leaked out.

Then he grabbed the phone and hit speaker. "Hey, Dad."

"Why can't you follow the simplest of orders!" This time his father's voice was not so calm.

"Things have been crazy—"

"I have _had _it with this behavior—"

"This is different! I swear!"

"Tell me, son, what can you possibly say that excuses your breaking your mother's heart_ again_?"

Hiccup swallowed hard. "Someone died. On campus."

For once, his father did not rely immediately.

It wasn't technically a lie. There _had_ been a death… He just hadn't known about it until the next morning, hours after the meeting with his mother had already passed. In fact, he wouldn't have even been at the frat party in the first place if he hadn't been looking for any desperate excuse to avoid of his parents.

"What do you mean?" his father eventually asked.

"There was some wolf attack. This guy got killed." Hiccup stared up at his dorm's white ceiling. "Honestly, I'm amazed you haven't heard. It's all over the news."

"Did you know the boy?"

Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, even though his father couldn't see. "Kind of. Not really." He flexed his bruised, throbbing fingers. "But, well—you know…"

He wondered if that blond girl was feeling as strange as he was right now.

"My heart goes out to his family," his father said, with some formality. "It's tragedies like these that make you realize how important it is to spend time with your loved ones."

This time Hiccup was the one to hang up first.

* * *

><p><em>How am I doing thus far? Any theories as to what will happen next?<em>


End file.
